Of the Sea
by PhantomPenguin
Summary: His heart had always been hers, and she knew it. The final chapter from the story of Davy Jones and Calypso.
1. He Died

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean and everything associated with it belongs to Disney. I'm merely borrowing their toys. However, they may not get some of them back :)

A/N: I've been meaning to post this ever since I saw AWE, and possibly a bit before. It killed me that they had no closure to the Davy Jones/Calypso story, so I decided to give them a chance at a happy ending (and, I suppose symbolically, they did, but I digress).

Anyway, I have at least five chapters planned, with the second one already written out (a first for me). There might be more, depending on how verbose I'm feeling. The chapters' focuses will alternate; this one will focus on Davy Jones, the next on Calypso, etc.

Enjoy.

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The sea, which had been so tranquil only hours before, had transformed into a violent, churning mass. Topped by frothing waves, the ocean writhed, a stinging rain lashing down from the heavens.

In the center of it all was a whirling maelstrom, eagerly waiting to engulf whatever fell into its watery maw.

Davy Jones alone knew the cause of the violent deluge: Calypso. The furious onslaught was the product of her fury, directed not only towards those who'd had released her, but also towards her betrayor.

After ten long years at sea, painstakingly doing every duty assigned to him, he had returned; determined to spend his one day ashore with his love, he had done everything she had required of him and more, eagerly awaiting that day when they could once again meet.

He had dedicated ten years of his life to ferrying the souls of the dead, every day dreaming of the day where he could be reunited with his love; but, when the time came for the lovers to meet, she wasn't there.

In his fury, amidst his heart-wrenching sorrow, he had carved out his still-beating heart and locked it away, in hope that he would never suffer that kind of torment again.

He would no longer be victim to the anguish that accompanied love.

And, in retaliation for her desertion, to prevent her from ever wounding him like that again, he had informed the pirate lords what needed to be done so that she would be locked away; the pirates, not Calypso, would rule the sea.

No longer would she be free to take whatever form she wished.

No longer would she be a part of the sea, the sea that was a part of her as much as she was of it.

Calypso would be, unless released, forever confined in a mortal body, cut off from the sea that she loved; living forever, yet dying every day.

However, keeping his heart shut away did nothing to help Davy Jones. He had realized that he was still host to that great ache that accompanies love. Jones turned cruel out of his resentment, betrayal, and heartbreak.

He became a monster.

Even knowing that she had betrayed him, he could not bring himself to stop loving Calypso, no matter how hard he tried.

Even with his heart locked away, he was still plagued with the feelings he tried to escape; his love for Calypso, and his anguish--piercing deeper than the sharpest knife--which followed her betrayel.

He hated her, hated her more than anything for condemning him to this fate, yet he loved her nevertheless.

She was dangerous, that was certain. She was the one person in this god-forsaken world who could make him feel human, even when he so obviously was not. She reminded him of who he once was, who they both had been.

And now, she was free.

When the first drops of rain began to fall, he had looked to the sky, knowing that she had summoned the storm in her fury. Lightning danced across the sky, and he roared, feeling her pain and loss.

_She knew he had betrayed her._

And yet, he also knew that she had forgiven him. It might not be evident, even to herself, but he knew that she would.

It was in her nature.

He almost smiled, which was quite at odds with the turn his fate had taken.

Having fought long and hard for the heart that was never his to begin with, Davy Jones now found himself at the mercy of the one man he thought never to see again; Jack Sparrow. That dammed bastard had the gall to stand in front of him, smirking, Jones' heart in one hand, his broken sword in the other.

Looking at him, Jones could tell that Sparrow would stab the heart. He could see it in his eyes.

Davy Jones knew he was going to die, but that didn't mean he would accept it. He saw the boy, Turner's son, lying on the ground, shooting worried glances at his own love.

Anger welled up within him.

Why should they have love when he could not?

He was going to die, that much was for certain, but he wouldn't be the only one.

William Turner gasped as the sharp steel of Jones' sword--a sword he himself had made--pierced his heart, pinning him to the deck of the _Dutchman._

The look on Elizabeth's face, and Sparrow's as well, was well worth the price he was going to pay for that deed.

Cruel was indeed a matter of perspective.

With a roar, Bootstrap launched himself towards Jones, intent on somehow harming the man who had killed his beloved son.

Momentarily forgetting the perilous position of his heart, Jones grappled with Bootstrap, forcing him to the edge of the ship. One last shove, and finally the _Dutchman_ would be rid of that traitorous wretch.

Davy Jones moved to do just that-

and froze, an alien pain seeping through him.

_Someone had stabbed his heart._

Inside him, something laughed. Who was he to fear death? For almost all of his existence, he had been the bearer of death to sailors around the world. Why would it bother him now to be in the same position himself?

He was weary of the world, and everything in it. Why should he not just give in, let himself be slain?

The answer, of course, was Calypso.

He had gone to visit her in the brig of the _Black Pearl_, perhaps even planning to kill her. She had looked up at him, and the look of delight, the longing in her gaze, had touched something in his mutilated heart.

All of the feelings he had kept locked away, all the emotions he had kept compressed for all of those years, had been brought back to the surface. He felt his love, as strong as it had ever been, the heartbreak from the betrayal, both his and hers, his confusion, fear, agony, compassion, empathy, guilt.

The list went on.

For the first time in many years, David Michael Jones felt like the man he used to be. A small doubt had begun to form at the back of his mind.

Did Calypso, perhaps, still love him? It certainly seemed that way. She had pledged herself to him, promising her heart, her love.

In the long run, though, it really didn't matter. He was still about to die.

His heart had always been hers, and she knew it.

"Calypso," he breathed, feeling the life flee from his body.

_I love you._

On the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, the heart of Davy Jones stopped beating, and his lifeless body plummeted into the waiting arms of the sea.

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And that was just chapter one!

Reviews are always welcome, and constructive criticism is appreciated; I always have room for improvement.


	2. She Watched

**Disclaimer:** Sadly it's not mine. Well, Davy Jones and Jack are. I kidnapped them and hid them in my closet; I wonder if Disney has noticed yet...

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"Name him," she spat, already formulating plans in her mind to brutally punish the man who had cursed her to this fate.

Will looked at her intently, contemplating the possible ramifications of his next words.

"Davy Jones."

_Davy Jones. Davy Jones. Davy Jones. _The words echoed through her head, pounding out a steady beat within her mind. She had trusted him, loved him, and he had betrayed her.

_He_ was the reason she had been bound, cut off from everything that made her herself.

_He_ was the reason she'd forgotten who she was, forgotten the sea, forgotten him.

It was all _his_ fault.

Her mounting fury took control of her, and she roared, dissolving into thousands of crabs, finally rejoining the sea. Her victory was ruined, however, by the reality that it was her love who had given her away.

Why did it have to be him?

It could have been any other man in the world; why him, the one man she could not bring herself to harm? He, the man she had loved for so long, who she had found an escape from death for, just so he could spend an eternity with her.

Amidst her agony and heartbreak from realization of his betrayal, she realized that she still loved him, and that fact unsettled her.

She _shouldn't_ love him.

Everything that had happened to her, be it good or bad, was because of Davy Jones. Before he had come along, she had merely existed, and she had been happy with that.

Then he had come into her life and mixed everything up, changed everything she knew.

She fell in love.

She cared about him more than anything in the world, even more than the sea.

And then, he had deceived her. He had been the one to turn on her, to tell the pirates what they needed to know so that she would bound, powerless to control their fate as she once had.

A voice in her head, her voice of reason, whispered of her betrayal as well, how she had promised to be there, and yet hadn't been. It was her fault as well as his, it told her.

She was as much to blame as he was, perhaps even more.

She told herself that what he did was worse, but she couldn't erase that smidgeon of guilt that she was feeling. She had been human for far too long, allowing her emotions to begin to affect her.

She was confused and angry--a deadly combination when one had control the ocean.

The turbulence in her mind soon spread, afflicting the sea as well.

Towering storm clouds swirled overhead, obscuring every trace of light. Torrents of rain began to fall, a physical manifestation of the sorrow and pain that she was being subjected to within her heart.

A great gusting wind began to blow across the sea, sending waves crashing across its surface. Mirroring the conflicting emotions flickering through her, a swirling vortex appeared in the midst of the soon-to-be battlefield.

All across the ocean, sailors looked up to the sky with frightened faces; this hurricane was anything but natural.

Calypso wept tears of sorrow, and of rage, and the sky cried with her. She screamed her anger, her hatred, and the tempest yelled with her.

The maelstrom only continued to grow, fed by the turmoil in her heart.

Images from the past welled up before her: a pair of bright blue eyes, staring into hers; a ship, disappearing with a flash of green; watching, waiting, loving. However, one mistake on her part and everything was over.

After those ten years had passed, she had failed to meet him.

Her nature was complex, in a way reminiscent of the sea; she was not the passive type, one who would simply loll about, content with leaving things to their own affairs. Nay, she drifted about, thoughtful and contemplative one day, vengeful the next. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place.

She had thought he would understand, would realize that it was who she was. She had thought he would not love her, should she go against her nature, should she be there when he returned.

She was mistaken, and paid dearly for it.

Stripped of both powers and memory by the Brethren, she was cursed to walk the Earth, forever trapped in a mortal body. She remembered nothing of her power, of the sea…of her love.

She had woken up one day and found herself on the shore of some unknown island, not knowing who she was, _what_ she was. All she had was her locket, and a few stray memories that had locked themselves in the back of her head, trying desperately to break free.

It had taken her years to even remember her own name.

Remembering, she seethed, and the storm reacted with her. Lightning cracked across the sky, and the sea sent violent sprays arching towards those ships unlucky enough to be caught in the deluge.

Sailors were swept up in the waves, swallowed by the merciless sea, their screams melding with the roar of the waves, the crash of the storm.

Watching, Calypso smiled cruelly.

Today, everyone would feel her wrath, her heartbreak, her fury, her love. They would feel the storm of her anger, and they would receive the unleashed force of her wrath.

All of them, their last thought in this life would be how cruel she could be.

Her attention was drawn to the flagships of the two armies who had made their way to the center of the whirlpool. She kept telling herself that she was indifferent, that the outcome of the battle mattered not to her.

Her heart, however, was telling her otherwise.

It lurched with fear when she saw the cannonball shoot across the deck of the _Dutchman_, even with the knowledge that its captain could not be slain.

It skipped a beat when she saw the chest in the possession of one who was not her love. The heart, which he claimed as his own, but was hers nonetheless. It was long ago forfeit to her, as was proven when he cut it out.

Her own heart heavy, she watched, looking on as the _Pearl_ and the _Dutchman_ did battle.

She watched despite her anger, drawn to him as he was to her. She watched as he stood, undaunted, and faced his fate.

Before him stood Jack Sparrow, heart in hand, poised to stab it so that the world could finally be rid of the great Davy Jones.

She watched as countless emotions flashed across his face: resentment, fear, anger, loss, heartbreak, love. Those eyes of his pierced her soul, driving deeper than any blade ever could. Those eyes, both accusing and forbidding.

She watched as he died.

At that moment, all thoughts of revenge escaped her. She lost her hold on the storm; she could already feel its power beginning to dwindle. Shock infiltrated her mind, taking her over. He couldn't _really_ be dead, could he? But the sight of her love standing on the deck of his ship, frozen in astonishment and pain, convinced her.

Davy Jones was truly dead.

She sent one last wave crashing over the deck of the _Dutchman_, and thought of the power she once again had at her disposal. The power with which she could control the sea; the power with which she had, with only a small portion of it, brought back Captain Barbossa from his eternal slumber. If she could do that with only a fraction, what could she do with it all?

Slowly, she began to smile, the beginnings of a plan already formulating in her mind.

And, when Davy Jones finally fell, after all those years, the sea was there to catch him.

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A/N: So, what did you think? I'm always open to comments/criticism, so reviews are welcome.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed the previous chapter. You guys are great!


	3. He Dreamed

**Disclaimer:** As stated before, none of it's mine.

A/N: I feel quite proud of myself. I've actually been updating somewhat regularly. Go me. Anyway, here's chapter three...did that rhyme? Great. I'm a poet and I didn't even know it :)

It's a bit angstier than I intended, but where would we be without a little angst in our lives?

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Water...

An endless ocean surrounded him, consuming him, and yet it forever remained out of his reach. It called to him, beckoning, but he could not go to it.

No, he was trapped in a dingy, rocking gently with the waves, reminded of everything he had lost, everything he had had to leave behind.

Everything he had held dear, had cherished, was represented here before him, torturing him; it offered everything he wanted, yet never allowed him to come close enough to claim it. Such was the nature of the Locker; it reached deep within people, finding their fears, their hopes, their weaknesses, their loves, and then it used those very thoughts and feelings against them to fabricate their own personal Hell.

That was the fate that awaited any sailor unlucky enough to find himself trapped in Davy Jones' Locker.

Now, it was Davy Jones' turn to experience that Hell.

He was trapped on this unmoving sea for eternity, constantly reminded of the love that he had left behind. She was the ocean, and every swell that rocked his little boat only served to heighten his sense of loss.

This ocean, though, was devoid of her spirit.

The sea in this waking nightmare was soulless, empty; it was not Calypso. She ruled the seas above, those inhabited by mortals, not the damned.

Even so, this mockery of an ocean only heightened his longing. Every day, every time he looked out at the sea, he was tortured by the fact that he was so close to her, and yet could do nothing.

He couldn't touch her, couldn't hold her, couldn't kiss her.

His only companion in this solitude was his locket, its melody softly repeating itself in his ear, the waves keeping time. Listening to it, he was overcome with misery and remorse, lamenting his losses, his mistakes.

The locket was but a painful reminder of Calypso, of how they would never meet again; she was immortal--a goddess-- and he was dead. No longer could he gaze at the sea and see her in every wave, every swell of the ocean. He had no hope of her bringing him back, either. Even her power, restored in full, was not enough to restore his life.

It didn't really matter anymore, though, did it? He was trapped in his Locker for eternity, was doomed to this sea of endless torment until the end of time, and nothing could change that.

The walls in this fortress were impassable, unmoving until the end of time. He was trapped here just as if he were in a dungeon, bound with chains and unable to move. In the world above, life went on, and time with it. Beyond the end of the world, time was at a standstill, never moving. The only evidence of change was the sunrise and set, and that only there to provide a false sense of reality.

Around him, the ocean swayed with a non-existent wind. Lulled by its peacefulness, he drifted to sleep, letting his consciousness sink to the bottom of his mind, welcoming the slight reprieve from his suffering. His dreams, though, chose not to offer him that escape.

He dreamt of Calypso, of their love. Even in his dreams he was reminded of what he had lost. He saw her watching over him every day he had been at sea; she was in every wave, every storm that he sailed through.

He dreamt of how things used to be, before he betrayed her. Although, it was not just she who he had turned on; by doing what he did, he also betrayed himself.

He dreamt of life, of his ship, of his pain. Every moment in this Hell, waking and sleeping, was torture; constantly he was reminded of what he would rather forget.

Things he had purposely shoved to the back of his mind made themselves known; thoughts, memories, ideas, and dreams congregated, vying for attention he didn't want to give.

Memories of days long gone danced through his head, painting pictures of times he had been joyful, distraught, or torn somewhere between the two. He saw the time he spent with Calypso, when he had been hers, body and soul. Now he was still hers, but he was not alive for her to claim.

He saw the day he had cut out his heart; he relived it, feeling the sharp pain from the blade, and the other pain, which cut deeper than the knife, that came from his breaking heart. He saw the blood, flowing from the wound to pool in the sand at his feet. He saw the chest, saw it being buried in the ground, his heart with it.

He awoke to realize that he was crying. Silent tears were streaming down his now-human cheeks, small rivulets of sorrow making a path down his weathered face. Alone on that silent sea, Davy Jones cried. He cried for himself, for the men he had doomed, for love, for loss...for Calypso.

He cried for the world.

In that dingy, lost among his thoughts, he sat there, time passing by unnoticed; sunset, or what passed for a sunset in that realm, was fast approaching.

He was shaken from his reverie when something ran into the boat. He looked over the side, but could see nothing but the dark depths of the ocean below. Listening, he heard the noise again, and noticed something else; the boat appeared to be moving. It raced for some unknown destination, fueled by whatever lay underneath the boat.

Looking again, he was startled when he glimpsed a shape beneath the waves.

It seemed to be...a crab.

He stared at it, uncomprehending, thoughts flashing through his head. Almost unknowingly, he reached out to touch his locket, feeling the contours of the crab claws that framed it.

Ever so slowly, Davy Jones began to smile.

He had his hope back, and with it, quite possibly, his life.

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A/N: I'm quite proud of this chapter. It took me forever to write, but it turned out a lot better than I expected.

Reviews are always welcome (and sometimes begged for). I always appreciate hearing your opinions!


	4. She Searched

**Disclaimer:** Do I even need to say it?

A/N: Chapter four! Woot! Sorry about the wait for this. It took me longer than I expected to come up with the material for this chapter. In other words, I was besieged by a bad case of writer's block

I'll be going out of town next week, so I will try as hard as I can to get the last chapter of this up before I leave.

(sobs)

My little ficcy's all grown up.

* * *

An eerie calm had settled across the waters of the Caribbean.

The nonexistent waves left the turquoise waters glassy, moonlight reflecting off the mirror-like surface. Gulls and other seafaring birds had long since departed, leaving the skies above empty and devoid of life.

Even the air was still, weighed down with some unknown emotion.

Deep beneath the surface, however, there was a flurry of activity.

Various fish darted this way and that, flitting among the rocks and debris scattered along the ocean floor. Rays and other bottom dwellers combed the bottom of the ocean, stirring up mud and brine.

Even the waters themselves were restless; they flowed every which way, winding about each other, searching.

Calypso was all of these; she was a shark, cutting swiftly through the water, endlessly circling its prey. She was a piece of seaweed, mindlessly drifting with the tide.

She was the sea, and the sea was searching for something.

Finding it would only be a matter of time.

To bring her love back from the depths to which he had been condemned she needed all of him: his body, devoid of life though it was, and his heart, whole once again.

Suspended before her, protected from the crushing pressure at her command, was the body of Davy Jones. His lifeless eyes gazed at her from a now-human face, haunting her with their intensity.

She recalled those instances, in what seemed another time, when his eyes had looked at her lovingly, dancing with suppressed mirth.

Those times when he seemed a different man, when he would laugh and joke, when he would cry, would show pain; those times when they could simply be together, not worrying about eternity or betrayals.

But, of course, times had changed. She had charged him with the duty of ferrying souls to the next world, had given him that task so that they could be together. He would sail the _Dutchman_ for ten years, and then they could have an eternity.

Calypso had let her fears and uncertainties take control of her. Before the ten years were up, she disappeared, following her nature instead of her heart. She turned her back on her on love.

He loved her for her unpredictable nature, and she presumed that, were she there to greet him when he returned, he would accuse her of not staying true to herself.

Instead, they were both faced with heartbreak and betrayals, with tragedy and pain. Theirs was a story of legend, and a thing of legend they became.

She was sealed and bound, confined to a fragile mortal shell and at the mercy of her captors. With the sea tamed, she sank into the stuff of legends and myths; she became a fairy tale.

He, on the other hand, became a living myth; he became the Devil of the Sea. A heartless monster, they claimed, one who would strike you where you stood just as soon as look at you.

He showed no mercy, and could not be killed.

Where she was forgotten, he became known.

Her mortality, however, had some unseen side effects. The time spent trapped in that body, among those she considered weak and fragile, had changed her considerably.

She had once been nearly as heartless as he, bestowing favor only on those she chose. The rest were at her mercy, for Calypso had no pity, no empathy. Those unlucky enough to fall prey to her anger were doomed souls.

Her time spent as a human had altered her, however; she was engulfed with human emotions. Love, she had already felt, and pain and anger as well, but she also became familiar with sorrow, pity, loneliness, hurt, sympathy, forgiveness...

Living among mortals for so long, she began to think like them. Her anger, when she learned of his betrayal, was no less than it would have been had she been living as a goddess. However, she had found herself forgiving him even in the midst of her fury.

Even as the storm of her anger raged, she found herself understanding why he had acted as he did, why he had betrayed her, and that scared her.

Free of her human confines, she could take any form she chose, or even all of them at once. She did not have to have substance; should she choose, she could merely exist, drifting along with the changing tides.

Without him, however, none of that had a point. Her freedom meant nothing if he were not there to share it with her.

She loved him, loved him more than anything in the world, and she was going to bring him back no matter what.

The only thing she needed now was his heart.

Something fluttered in the back of her mind, a location. A feeling of triumph and success welled up within her; she had finally found it. It was nestled in between two rocks, where it had landed when the death throes of her deluge had swept it off the _Dutchman's_ deck.

Assuming the human form she favored, the one she had been trapped in, she retrieved the heart, cradling it in her arms.

His heart.

_Her heart, _her mind whispered.

It was hers. It had always belonged to her.

She examined it, carefully checking for external wounds. There was the tear where Sparrow's sword had punctured it; she healed it in seconds.

The other, deeper injuries were not visible for mending. Her power could do nothing for those, but her love, her determination, could triumph where power could not.

Calypso returned to the body—_his_ body—and began to work. She allowed the currents to take them, followed them to Isla Cruces.

All night she labored, working endlessly to make heart and body whole. Thoughts and memories flashed through her mind; her hopes for the future, for Davy Jones, surfaced, brought out by her care and devotion.

She poured everything—her power, her knowledge, her love—into that act. She harnessed everything she had ever felt, everything that had ever happened to her, using that power to make her love complete.

Finally, it was done.

The sun was just beginning its daily foray into the sky when she sat back on the beach, looking at the result of her labor.

The body of Davy Jones, whole once more, was laid out on the beach of Isla Cruces, waiting for her command.

One word from her, and he could live again.

For a moment, she hesitated. What if it didn't work? What if, after all this effort, all of this heartbreak, her plan failed?

What if…

Her eyes hardened, stony in the light of the early morning sun. It _would_ work.

It had to.

She raised her arms above her head and shouted, her words lost in the swell of power. Calypso poured all of her remaining energy into his body, willing him to live again, to fetch back his mind from its infinite prison.

She staggered, her power completely drained. She stared at her beloved, willing something, anything, to happen.

And then, on the horizon, there was a flash of green.

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One chapter left! That makes me feel both sad and relieved. This has been one of the hardest stories I've written, and I both love it and hate it.

Anyway, reviews are always welcome, so push the pretty purple button: P


	5. They Were

**Disclaimer:** Despite my best efforts, Pirates of the Caribbean and everything associated with it still does not belong to me. I don't even have Davy Jones anymore; the Disney execs came and stole him back

I'm so sorry for leaving you guys hanging this long!

--dodges various sharp pointy objects thrown by angry readers--

Band camp has kept me occupied for the past few weeks, and, combined with my habit of being a world class procrastinator, writing the finale for this story took me quite a bit longer than expected.

--ducks again--

Also, a special thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys are what keep me going

* * *

With a wrenching effort, blue eyes opened to meet the azure sky above, where a few wispy clouds flitted along with the gentlest of breezes. A hand, brown and familiar, reached down to caress his face.

His eyes fluttered closed again, lost in the touch that was of the sea. She was exactly as he had remembered; she was the wind, capricious to the core. She was the sea, her lifeblood the waters of the ocean that flowed through her veins.

And now, they were together again.

Sitting up, he took her hand in his, gently returning her caress.

"How?"

He voiced the query somewhat hesitantly, as if unsure of the reality of it all.

She looked at him, her gaze piercing his icy blue eyes.

"How could mean many things, Davy Jones," she said, rising from her spot next to him.

All traces of her human accent were gone when she spoke. Now her voice carried the lilt of the sea, bespoke of waves breaking against the shore. A great power was woven into her voice, a power laced with elegance and destruction, yet as fickle as the tides.

"Perhaps," she said, "you wonder how you came to be here, when you were so obviously dead? Or, possibly," she continued, "your question entails how it is that I came to be free after so long, how I escaped the mortal bonds to which you confined me?"

As she spoke, her tone grew angrier, her eyes darkened. The wind picked up, gusting about them at rapid speeds as the sky above grew darker, clouds forming to obscure the sun from view.

"Maybe, though, the question should be why." Calypso strode to the surf and looked out upon the darkened waves. "Why did you choose to betray me, to betray my secrets to the Brethren? Why did you cut out your heart?" Her voice rose with barely supressed anger, and lightning flickered across the sky.

She paused.

"Why did _I_ betray _you_?" she asked softly.

She seemed to be talking more to herself now than to him. Her voice lost its angry tone, became less harsh. The sky above mimicked her dwindling fury, and the brewing storm dissipated into a few puffy clouds dancing across the sky with a mild breeze.

The swell of her power faded until it was a mere shadow of what it had been only minutes before.

"It was love, Davy Jones. How, why, it was because I loved you." Her face was calm, devoid of all emotion, but her eyes gave her away, revealed the Calypso that he had come to know and love all those years before.

It was that look that unraveled him.

"You should not." His voice, hoarse from neglect, was laced with long-suppressed loathing; it was not only directed towards her, but towards himself as well.

"All the things I did, all the people I killed; I was a monster. I thought you didn't love me, had forgotten me; the pain that caused me was too great, and I hid behind the beast that I made myself into."

He stared at the sand, fists clenched, lost in his self-hatred and regret.

Calypso smiled softly, a smile filled with years of suffering, and lowered herself to sit beside him.

"It is not always the choices we make, but what comes of them," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Sometimes, even though the choice may be wrong, the resulting effect is even greater than what was hoped for."

When she spoke, she directed her words not only at him, but at herself as well, sure of her words and the power she held; nonetheless, she was convincing herself as much as she was him.

He looked at her, really looked, and saw the Calypso that had long been hidden; the Calypso who had loved him, and who he, in turn, had loved.

He saw the danger of her, the intensity that radiated from her person, capturing the attention of those caught unaware, dragging them under like the fiercest of waves.

She was deadly, but he was hers, body and soul. He always had been, from their very first meeting.

Despite the chaos that had come of their mutual betrayals, he still loved her, and she him.

And that was all that mattered to them.

She reached up and took his face in her hands, caressing it, reveling in the fact that it was whole, it was human, and it was _hers_. For the first time in many a year, Calypso smiled, truly smiled, and the sea smiled with her.

The waters of the ocean were thrown into sharp relief, glittering with unsurpassed beauty as the blinding sun met the tranquil blue sea.

Davy Jones and Calypso stood there, gazes locked, oblivious to all but themselves.

The waves lapped at their feet as they embraced, lost in each other, in their moment of reunion. After all this time, they were together at last. The sea was no longer soulless, as it once had been.

They were two halves of a whole; he was her other half, the one she hadn't noticed she was missing until they had met. From that moment, she knew that there was something different about him. He intrigued her, something no mortal had accomplished.

He did not delude himself into thinking that he could control her, for she was the sea, and thus untamable, but he could sway her choices. She listened to him, respected him; he was her equal in many ways, and she loved him for it.

Even after he had betrayed her, when each was trying to forget the other, they still remembered. All of his thoughts were centered around her, try as he might to alter them.

He understood her, knew her, and he was the only one to have ever done so.

Now, as they stood together, it could not be any clearer that they were made for each other. True he had been a mortal, and she was a goddess, but it mattered not to them.

They were both of the sea.

* * *

Now, push the pretty button. You know you want to.


End file.
